


A Series of Awkward Moments

by cmk418



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmk418/pseuds/cmk418
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the beginning, there was you.  There will always be you, I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Series of Awkward Moments

The phone rings in the hotel room. It’s probably Ellie calling from downstairs. She’s holding true to the adage about the bride and groom not seeing each other on their wedding day, but we’re in Vegas, about to pledge ourselves for better or worse in front of some stranger in the Tiny Little Chapel of Love, or whatever it’s called, so sticking with tradition seems a little ridiculous.

I pick up the phone on the third ring. My “I’m on my way” is automatic.

There’s silence for a long time and I wonder if I got dressed up in this damned tux for nothing.

“Ellie?” I prompt.

The voice that comes through the phone is intimately familiar to me, but it’s not the voice of my bride-to-be. “Don’t do this,” says Sean Murphy, my oldest friend. He sounds like he’s three sheets to the wind, which is kind of funny, because Sean is the responsible one. He’s been the designated driver ever since we were old enough to designate.

“Where are you?” I ask. I don’t like the idea of Sean wandering around out there, drunk and alone. Or in some bar somewhere, easy prey to equally drunken sluts.

“Far, far away,” he sing-songs. I don’t hear any background noise, so he’s probably at home. “Don’t do this,” he says again. “You don’t know her. I don’t know her.”

“All you need to know is that I love her and you will too.”

“Love,” he scoffs. “What the fuck does Tim McManus know about love?"

Now, that isn’t fair. Especially considering the source. In the time I’ve known him – which, for the record, has been since I was eight and a half years old - Sean has had two girlfriends. No, wait… three. But two of them he only dated a couple of times and Kimmy, who lasted the longest, was all of twenty-three days. So I don’t really see how he can accuse _me_ of not knowing what love is.

I’ll be the first to admit, this thing with Ellie happened quick. I’d been going to school out here at Stanford when I met her. She was in one of my study groups. Group study soon turned into some one-on-one private lessons and I’ve discovered that she understands me better than anyone else.

Well, except Sean, of course. But best friends are supposed to get you.

So I don’t know why Sean doesn’t understand this.

“Tell me about love, Sean.” It comes out more patronizing than I want it to and I fully expect to get a “Fuck you, Tim” out of him any second now.

What I don’t expect is laughter. “Been telling you for years. If you-“

There’s a knock on the door, which pulls me off the phone for a second. “Yeah?” I yell.

“Tim?”

 _Now_ she shows up. _Wonderful_.

I still have the phone next to my ear. Sean’s rambling something about the day he and I met. I set the phone on the bed and go to the door.

Ellie squawks as I open the door. She looks great even as she’s trying to duck out of view. “Tim! It’s bad luck.”

“You could have called.”

“I tried. Your phone was busy.”

 _Oh, holy hell,_ I think, remembering Sean.

“Give me a second, honey.” I close the door and go pick up the phone again.

“…you, I guess.” Apparently Sean’s been yammering on this whole time. “Just say you'll think about it before you... you know.”

“All right,” I say. I have no idea what I’m agreeing to, but if it’ll get us through this phone call, I’m all for it.

“Good,” he responds, and then there’s a clatter in my ear. The phone slipping out of Sean’s hand, I figure. I hang up the phone and head out to meet Ellie.

Out in the hallway, I loop my arm through hers. “In less than an hour, you’re going to be Mrs. Tim McManus.”

She smiles up at me. “Actually I’m going to be Ms. O’Connor, but we’ll still be married and that’s the most important thing, isn’t it, Tim?”

This is the first time she’s mentioned that she wants to keep her name, but I’m not going to let anything put a damper on my wedding day. “Absolutely,” I say. And suddenly, I really wish that I’d paid attention to whatever Sean had to say.

****

\+ + + + +

Yes, you should have called. I shouldn’t have had to hear that “Mrs. McManus says that Tim’s back” from my mother. I should have been there to help you move your stuff into that house you share with that… woman.

He’s waiting for me to say something. He probably wants me to let him off the hook for three years of nothing.

After another moment or two of standing there watching him, I give in. “Probably wouldn’t have made any difference. Work has been insane lately.” It actually had been crazy – the Warden was making everyone nuts with preparations before the state inspection; my unit manager had gotten banged in the head trying to break up a fight, leaving me with a shitload of paperwork to fill out; and a bunch of C.O.s got hit with the flu so the rest of us had to pull double shifts.

“Yeah, me too. I’ve been preparing something for the State Prison Board to review. It’s a proposal for an experimental unit.”

“I guess all those years of overhearing C.O. complaints actually came in handy.”

“Well, this unit is more for the prisoners than for the C.O.s.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes at that statement. Tim has a tendency to see prison as something like summer camp. A place where a diverse group of people could get together and do arts and crafts with Popsicle sticks. He never quite got that the campers weren’t third graders, but felons and the only thing they would be making with Popsicle sticks were crude shanks to use on each other. Still, there’s something in his optimism that’s weirdly attractive.

Oh hell, there’s something about _Tim_ that’s weirdly attractive.

But he’s married.

And probably working on the two point five right now. I’m not going to bring _her_ up, because I’m not feeling that masochistic. So, I put the beer in my cart and ask Tim about the unit.

It’s like opening up a fountain. He must not get to talk about this to anyone else, because he’s glowing. Honest to God, I don’t think I’d have gotten this reaction if I got down on my knees and blew him right here in the middle of the supermarket.

He’s so animated and happy and I find myself smiling in response and all this time without him just drifts away.

****

\+ + + + +

I pick up the phone, tired of spending another night at my desk. I’ve been here so often, I’ve practically become one of the prisoners. None of the C.O.’s know me yet. Mineo, I think that’s his name, calls me McMillan when he sees me in the break room. If he ever gets it right, I might make him part of the unit. Wittlesey’s okay, she doesn’t talk a lot, even less at night – I think she sleepwalks through this place with as many hours as she puts in. Glynn is always out the door by seven. I don’t think he knows that I’ve slept here for the past four nights -my temporary office is far enough away from everything else that nobody would know I’m here unless they walked in.

I dial Sean’s number. I really hope he’s not at work, pulling a double or anything like that. I doubt he’ll be sleeping. It’s late-ish, but ten at night is still reasonable enough to meet someone for a beer.

“Hello?” A man answers the phone. Not Sean.

“Sorry. Wrong number,” I say and dial again, focusing this time to make sure I hit the right buttons.

This time I’ve got the right number because Sean answers the phone. “Hello?”

“What’s up?”

“Fine. Um… I mean, nothing. Is up.” Sean’s voice is muffled for a second and I completely miss what he’s saying.

“Feel like going out for a drink?” I ask.

“Tonight? Aw, buddy, I wish I could, but…”

“Don’t you remember us saying that we’d never get too old to party?”

“Yeah, about fifteen years ago.”

“So…”

“I’m on shift at five tomorrow.”

“Well, if we’re going to play that game, I’m still at work.”

“Why? You don’t have any reason to stay late.”

“Actually, I’ve been kind of living here lately. Ellie kicked me out.”

I hear Sean mumble something about goddamn motherfucking lousy timing and then he sighs so deeply that it carries through the phone. “Okay,” he says. “Where?”

****

\+ + + + +

I watch the event unfold on television as I cross the common room in my unit at Attica. “Can you believe this shit?” says Jones to Fontane. “We should be in fuckin’ Oswald. They’d never do any of that ‘sperimental shit ‘round here.”

“One of my boys, Keane, is going over there. Says the whole thing is a big production, you gotta be hand-picked or something.”

“Give the warden a hand-job or something’s more like it. Know what I’m sayin’?”

I try to block out the sound of their laughter and focus once more on the television screen. Tim is there, talking about the new unit and looking pleased as punch as he stands between Oswald’s warden and the Governor.

I look around my unit, dingy gray-green walls. Bars everywhere. I’ve spent five years in this place. I could have moved on. Tim and me go way back – I would have gone in a heartbeat if he’d have asked.

 _If_ he’d have asked.

****

\+ + + + +

“Literacy-smiteracy,” says Healy. “You and your touchy-feely crap, McManus. You know what gets results?”

I try to restrain my temper. Healy’s a trained monkey. I’m the one with the college degree and ten years of working for prison reform under my belt. I hold my tongue and smile and wait for him to continue.

“Boxing,” he says.

“We teach them how to deal in the outside world by letting them knock each other’s brains out?"

“It gives the dinks an outlet. You start teachin’ ‘em to read and shit, they’ll use it against you, start a riot or something.”

“Dick and Jane plan a riot,” deadpans Burano.

“I haven’t read that one,” said Glynn. “Who’s got the boxing program?”

“Attica.”

My ears instantly perk up.

“Might interest you to know, McManus, that a C.O. came up with the idea.”

“Which C.O.?” I make my best attempt at seeming disinterested, but the question slips out before I can stop it.

“How the fuck should I know?” says Healy.

It sounds undoubtedly like something Sean would do. Deep down I know it. The guy was really into boxing for a while, actually could have made a career of it, but he hasn’t said anything about starting a program out at Attica.

Jesus, when was the last time we talked? June, maybe? No. March or April. Because he said “Happy Easter” at the end of the night. That’s right. My divorce was finalized. We had a couple of beers and I told Sean about Gloria. Or maybe Diane.

“…difficult to get funding, especially with…” Glynn drones on.

Actually, I don’t think I’ve told him about Diane yet. I really should give him a call. It’ll be good to catch up.

****

\+ + + + +

I didn’t expect his eyes to open at that moment.

Don’t get me wrong, I expected them to open eventually. In fact, I’ve been praying for that the past ten hours.

But I didn’t expect it to happen the moment my lips touched his forehead. Tim could hardly be compared to some princess in a damn fairy tale.

It was just an impulse. I’m not going to admit how many times I’ve had this particular impulse and where else I wanted to kiss him.

Honestly, Sean Murphy on the forehead in the hospital room sounds like the outcome of a deranged version of Clue.

“You need to shave” is the first thing he says to me. The words are definitely welcome, but I find myself blushing for being caught.

“’S good to be alive,” he mumbles as I settle back into the chair by his bedside.

His words hit me in a way that nothing else can. I realize how close I came to losing him. I let my thumb drift over the back of his hand that I’m holding. _He’s alive. He’s okay_ , I tell myself again and again.

“Glad you’re here,” he says.

“Me too, buddy,” I respond.

“So what’s going on in your life?” he asks.

It’s so _normal_ that I have to laugh.

****

\+ + + + +

The thing is… it’s always been me and Sean ever since the beginning. It’s his first time coming here to Emerald City and I’m nervous. This means more to me than having him meet any of my girlfriends. He’s got to like it, right? Who wouldn’t like it here?

I’ve talked it up enough. Maybe I’ve set his expectations too high. He could be disappointed. He might hate it and decide not to take the job. _No, don’t think about that, Tim. Not liking this place is like not liking you and you already know that Sean likes you._

 _Then why has it been four months since you’ve last went out for a beer with him?_ I thank god when the phone rings, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“You’ve got a visitor.”

I make my way to the lobby, reminding myself the entire time that Sean hasn’t exactly said that he was taking the job.

_Yet._

I need to woo him. Take the long way around, introduce him to the C.O.s that are here – except maybe Howell, I want to steer clear of her, show him that we’re all one big happy family, let him really get a feel for the place where he’s going to be spending his days.

If he accepts, that is.

We pass outside the gym. He glances through the window, checking out the weight room and then we walk through the cafeteria. It’s after lunch, so most everyone has cleared out.

As we climb up the stairwell that leads to my office, I start to wrap up my closing pitch. “I think you and me together could turn this place around.”

From the floor below, Ryan O’Reily tries to get my attention.

 _Not now_ , I think. This is why I didn’t want to bring Sean straight through the quad.

Ryan is carrying on and on about his brother and I can sense Sean going very still next to me. His eyes size up the younger man, perhaps preparing for an attack of some sort.

Sean doesn’t know O’Reily like I do. The kid’s all talk, no execution unless it helps his cause. Ryan seems to realize that now is not the time for this discussion and moves out. I expect another argument before the day is over.

“Who’s that?” Sean asks. It’s a natural question, I guess, but of the dozen or so prisoners we passed on our tour, O’Reily’s the one that caught Sean’s attention. I tamp down the totally irrational feeling of jealousy that springs up and answer his question.

Steering the topic away from all things O’Reily-related, I use my ace-in-the-hole and ask Sean what he thinks about setting up his boxing program here at Oz.

It seems to do the trick.

****

\+ + + + +

I stand at the doorway of Tim’s – my - _the unit manager’s_ office a long time before going in. It doesn’t seem right, almost an invasion of privacy, even though I know the previous occupant won’t be returning.

I spend a few moments moving chairs around, then realize that as uncomfortable as I am sitting in Tim’s – _the unit manager’s_ chair, I’d be a lot less comfortable seeing Adebisi lounging in it.

Maybe I should have left when Leo told me he’d fired Tim, had my little show of solidarity for my best friend and former boss. But shows of solidarity don’t pay the mortgage.

Which leaves me stuck doing this administrative bullshit until a replacement can be found.

A _replacement_. How does someone replace Tim McManus?

I never have been able to.

****

\+ + + + +

“What about him?” I ask. I deliberately choose a guy at the far end of the bar, and not the one over by the pool table that looks a bit like Ryan O’Reily.

“What do you mean?”

I lean close because I really don’t want anyone in McNulty’s overhearing this. “Is he your type?”

Sean laughs. “Jesus, Tim.”

“I’m trying to be supportive here.” Just because I didn’t react well when Sean sprung it on me out of the blue doesn’t mean I can’t get with the program. It’s taken a couple weeks, but I’m completely on board with the whole gay thing. Well, not completely, but as near the board as a best friend can get.

“I get that,” says Sean, taking another sip of his beer.

“So what _is_ your type?” I’ve got to admit, I’m curious, but if he points out the guy at the pool table, there’s gonna be a problem.

Sean mumbles something into his beer.

“Fine,” I sigh. “Don’t tell me.”

“You’re an idiot.” Sean smirks at me over his glass.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

“That’s true,” he says and adds with a smile. “Too fucking bad you’re straight.”

“This ass is strictly for the ladies,” I say. I have to be a step past buzzed because that sounded a lot better in my head.

Sean’s eyes meet mine in the mirror behind the bar, and then fixate on something – or rather _someone_ \- else. “The guy over at the pool table is kinda cute.”

_Fuck._

****

\+ + + + +

“You okay over there?” I ask.

Tim has been quiet throughout the drive. I didn’t risk leaving him on his own, because I fully expect him to do something ridiculous, like trying to break into the Biohazard area that is currently Oz.

It has been a day from hell and I, for one, am glad it’s over. I look forward to nothing more than a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before diving back into the hellhole that is Lardner. That place makes Oz look like a walk in the park, but maybe it’s just because Tim and his damned unit have spoiled me for other prisons.

“Sean?”

“Yeah?”

“What am I going to _do_?”

 _Fuck._ I mentally wave good-bye to the idea of sleep.

“What were you going to do when your probation was up?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? Querns would never have fired me.”

I hold my tongue, because not only would Querns have fired him, he would have personally escorted Tim to the door.

“I’m too valuable to that place. He would have seen that. If I’d been given the time.” His voice fades a little. “But this happened.” He sighed. “If I see Chris Keller in the next life, I’m going to kick his ass for fucking this up for me.”

I laugh as I pull the car in front of his building. “You believe in that shit? Past lives and all that?”

“Sure. People can change. It just may take them more than one lifetime.”

With that explanation, I can see why Tim would buy into it. I decide to play along. “So, in a previous life, we had this conversation and then what?”

Tim seems to think about it for a moment, and then turns his head to look at me. “I don’t know. Maybe you pulled up to my front door and I got out of the car and went inside where Ellie and my two kids were asleep.”

“Nice.”

“I’m not married. Not anymore.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t have any kids either. Unless you count the forty or so that I just dropped off at Lardner.”

I nod.

“So, the only thing that would be constant in both scenarios is you.”

Suddenly, it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the car.

Tim keeps talking. “I have a feeling that if I get out of this car, I’m never going to see you again.”

“C’mon, Timmy. It’s not like that.”

“What if it was exactly like that before? And the time before that? And the time before that? What if _this_ is the thing I’m supposed to change?”

“So what are you going to do? Stay here and live out of my car until you’re ninety?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“You’re certifiable.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“That’s because I’m certifiable too.” _God, Tim, just get out of the fucking car. Please. Before I do something that I’m going to regret._

“So you start at Lardner tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” But he knows this already. He’s just stalling.

“Keep an eye on Beecher. I think the system may be getting to him.”

_Ah, there it is._

“Rebadow too. And Poet.”

“Maybe I can convince him to write a newsletter.”

“That would be-“ Tim begins, and then realizes that I was kidding.

“I’ll watch out for them.” I promise.

“Thanks,” he says and stares out the window at his building.

There’s a part of me that wants to remind him that one of us has to go into work tomorrow, but then it sinks in – only one of us is going to work tomorrow.

And suddenly, I really don’t want him to leave the car either.

I breathe a sigh of relief when he starts talking again. “You know, there are theories that say we go from life to life with the same people. Well, same _types_ of people would probably be a better way to put it.”

“Like soulmates.” The conversation has taken a weird turn, but it beats the hell out of “well, good night”, so I let Tim prattle away.

“Exactly. And there’s all different levels to these connections. Some are acquaintances, others are friends and relatives, and then there’s that special person where there’s an instant connection, like you’ve just found the other half of yourself.”

“Yeah. Soulmates.”

“I always wondered why things didn’t work with Ellie. Or Diane. Or Gloria. Why it never felt right.”

_Because you’re married to your work and would drive most sane people crazy?_

“And it wasn’t because I didn’t love them to some extent, because I did.”

_I swear to God, Tim, if we’re going to walk down a memory lane filled with your exes, then I will shove you out of this car and drive away from here so fast, you’ll see taillights before your ass hits the ground._

“But, what the fuck does Tim McManus know about love, right?” he whispers.

That makes me I look over at him. Big mistake. Because he has turned away from the window and is facing me.

“You said that to me on my wedding day, remember?”

I want to check my reflection in the mirror to see if I have actually gone pale, but I keep my eyes locked on Tim’s.

“Maybe you were right. I didn’t know enough to recognize that instant connection for what it was. But, give me a break, I was only eight and a half at the time.”

_Oh._

I feel the brush of Tim’s fingers against the back of my neck. “Is this okay?” he asks.

I nod and he smiles.

When our lips finally touch, it’s anything but awkward.

END


End file.
